Wonka Chronicles: the Archives
by Wonkaverse
Summary: The lesser known side adventures of Willy Wonka and the Oompa-loompas, written in correlation with the other Chronicles and broken into respective reports. The record numbers are arbitrary i.e. we did not write thousands of them, but the Oompa-loompas must have . Rated M because some of the reports are rather grim...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Name of Wonka, Oompa-loompas, etc. belong to whatever firm owns the rights to the works of Roald Dahl (at least until the year of 2035).

**A.N.** Like the description says, this stuff is written like a side story, for readers to better understand what's going on in the background of the Wonka Chronicles. If you have not read any of that yet, you might not understand the episodes listed here. Regardless of whether you have read it all or not, do enjoy...and review. Recommendations for future episodes will be greatly appreciated.

Record 2306, Wonka Archive

_Inventing Room, English Factory_

Various vats and containers bubbled and frothed with liquids of bright and amazing colors; equally startling smells and scents rose from the mixtures, diffusing throughout the whole chamber. With one sniff, Willy was reminded of why he loved this room the best. Everything in here, all the machines and concoctions and savory aromas, had been created by him. Of course, the whole factory above and around him had been his creation, but it was only here in this private sanctum that he could let his overactive creativity run wild. No one other than himself, not even an Oompa-loompa, had been in this room. There was an intercom for his Oompas to reach him if they needed his attention, and there was a little hole in the wall through which he could pass any edible creations for a test-loompa to try; but other than those things, Wonka would not tolerate any connection with the outside when he was in this chamber_. It would be a sacrilege_, he thought one day while proudly glancing around the room, _for anyone else to trespass on this hallowed ground. After all, this is where I find my imagination is most active. _His thought was interrupted by the tone of the intercom, and the voice of an Oompa-loompa came through. "Sir, security reports that there is a vehicle approaching the gates."

Wonka tensed… a visitor. It had been nearly a year since the reopening of his factory, and never once had there been a visitor… until today, that was. After a moment's deliberation, he pressed the intercom button. "How distant are they?"

"One mile and closing, sir. The vehicle's framework suggests government funding, though the car itself is unmarked." There was a pause as the other read a transmission from security. "The gatekeeper says it's here. One man is getting out… white coat and clipboard…"

Wonka swore under his breath. "The FDA… so we finally meet." He mashed the button, speaking quickly. "Tell the gatekeeper to let him in. I will meet him at the main entrance. Meanwhile, set the danger alert to Yellow; and tell the others to follow Protocol Seven." The Oompa-loompa on the other end replied after a second; there was no mistaking the mischievous tone to his confirmation. "Yes, sir; we will get started immediately."

Satisfied, Wonka moved away from the desk, casting a quick, disappointed look at his multiple projects before heading for the elevator. He would have to come back later and work on them.

Aboveground, Wonka stepped quickly to the large door that served as the main entrance. He waited for a knock, but apparently the man outside didn't fancy banging on a steel door. Shrugging to himself, he unlocked the panel and swung it open, permitting entrance for a single man, dressed in a white coat and carrying a clipboard. His brow furrowed as he scrutinized Wonka's appearance, apparently unused to seeing someone wearing such grandiose garb. Wonka, attempting to be friendly, put out a hand, forcing a grin. "Hello there. My name is Willy Wonka. And you are?"

The other hesitantly took Willy's hand, giving it a weak shake before replying. "Doyle Henson, FDA. I'm here to make an inspection."

Wonka's smile faded. "Whatever for? Have there been complaints?"

"Oh, it's not that, sir… every food-related institution is required to have an inspection on a regular basis, in your case, once a year."

Willy frowned. "Well, good Mr. Henson, this is the first time anyone has told me this. When I first started my business, such was never required."

Henson glanced down at his papers. "That was because you started your trade before such laws were established. The FDA wasn't approved until a few years ago. Now it is official, and we need to inspect your equipment and working conditions."

Willy bit his lip, frowning. Henson noticed, and glanced up. "Mr. Wonka, don't take this the wrong way; it's just an inspection. The only reason you would need to be worried is if you have something to hide." Wonka lifted his eyes to return Henson's steady gaze, hoping the other wouldn't see the sweat beading on his neck. But he suddenly broke into a big smile. "Of course I don't, Mr. Henson. All my candies are grade-A. Here we have the best sanitation, sterilization, and mediation in mind. I'm sure you will agree… after you see all that you must."

Henson gave a nervous nod, then followed as Wonka turned to walk through the main atrium.

"What will you need to be seeing first?" Wonka asked without turning.

Henson read from his clipboard. "Your machinery would be a good start, then your storerooms, working conditions, and overall cleanliness of the place." He looked at the clean floor with a smile. "So far, you're doing fine."

Willy smiled coldly to himself as he pulled a rung of keys from his pocket. "Glad to hear it. Now, here is the room where we make boiled sweets. I'm sure you will find it quite interesting." He inserted a key into the lock, turning it with a click. The door swung open with a slight groan, and Wonka scowled. He thought he had told Maintenance to fix that. But Henson hadn't noticed the squeaky hinge… his mind was too occupied with the near impossibility before him. In the Boiled Sweet room, massive vats of boiling liquid were suspended over equally massive furnaces. Mechanical arms hanging down from the ceiling were hard at work, raising and dropping multicolored, sugary candies into the vats, setting them out to dry, collecting them for packaging. The arms alone were a wondrous sight, long gleaming things that moved with little whirrs and hissing sounds as they did their jobs. Henson threw Wonka a disbelieving glance, speechless. Willy smiled. "What do you think, Mr. Inspector?"

Henson shook his head, clearing it for a moment before analyzing the room with a glance. Nodding, he made a little checkmark on his clipboard. "Clean, safe, upgraded technology. But where are the workers?"

"No need for them here," Wonka replied quickly, glancing at something behind Henson before returning his gaze to the other. "It's run completely by machine." "And you don't have anyone come and check these machines?"

"From time to time."

Henson gave Wonka an unsure look, but nodded. "Fine. Everything looks good in here…. Are there any other places you make candies?"

Wonka was about to reply by saying thousands, but he stopped himself. "A few more rooms, then I'll show you the storage areas."

Henson trailed after Wonka, oblivious to the small guards watching him from the shadows.

_Control Room_

Two Oompa-loompa technicians watched as Wonka conducted the inspector through the factory, observing through use of the hidden security cameras. One gave a small chuckle. "Let the fun begin." The other shot him a glare. "Could you be a little more serious, please? This has never happened before… I think something's up." "And so does Mr. Wonka. Which is why we must wait until an opportune time before giving the signal." "Yes," the other agreed with a sigh. "But all the same, I hate waiting."

_Packaging Room 0143_

Willy pushed open the door with a flourish, grinning as he let Henson enter the chamber. "Welcome to the Packaging room for my chocolates. Unfortunately, you can't see the bar making process since the machinery is closed to sight… better for the chocolate, you see. The machine gets cleaned and tested periodically, but you'll just have to trust me on that one." Henson coughed. "Looks fine to me." He made another checkmark on his paper, though the movement was jerkier than before. Wonka noted this with a sly smile, but said nothing. The inspector looked up from his board, putting the lid back on his pen. "Shall we move along?"

"Of course." Wonka allowed the other to exit ahead of him, turning to nod at the figures in the shadows before leaving the room. They nodded back, and Wonka smiled.

"Where to next, Mr. Henson?" Willy asked, moving down the hall at a lively pace. Henson followed behind, huffing with effort. "Your storerooms, perhaps? Maybe more candymaking rooms so I can see your workers, their working environments, I mean."

Wonka broke into a slow smile, as if a revelation had come upon him. "Certainly, sir. Follow me." He did not slow down as he made a quick turn to the left, leading the inspector deeper into the facility.

"Wait, Mr. Wonka, wait!" But Wonka did not wait. He could not wait, it seemed; so excited he had become, that he could not slow his pace. He finally did stop, however, before a large door marked in black lettering: LABS. Henson caught up to him then, puffing madly, his face flushed. After catching his breath, he lifted his head to read the sign. "Labs? Is that some sort of laboratory in which you create new candy formulas?"

"Something to that effect," Wonka replied, catching the nearly imperceptible glint in Henson's eyes… it was then that Wonka made a quick hand motion behind his back, visible only to the hidden camera behind him.

In the Control Room, the two Loompas exchanged an impish glance. "It's time," one said into his headset, his indication transmitted to a group over a hundred strong. The other keyed in a message to the laboratories, according to Wonka's instruction. READY THE MACHINE

Standing in front of the LABS door, Henson shot Wonka an annoyed look. "We've been standing here for five minutes. Are we going in, or not?"

"No need to snap," Wonka said heatedly, "especially considering your current position."

"Whatever do you mean?" Henson said, incredulity in his voice. But Wonka caught something else in his tone… fear. Willy's smiles evaporated instantly, replaced by a vicious glare. "What I mean, Mr. Henson, if that is your real name, is that you are not who you say you are. You don't work for the FDA; you are nothing more than a spy." Henson's eyes widened. "How…"

"Simple," Wonka said icily, "your body language betrayed you. Nervousness has a funny way of doing that, I've found. Tiny jerks of the hand, constant shifting gazes, dilated eyes… You are not who you say you are; you are an imposter, Mr. Henson, and on top of that, you have seen some of the wonders of my factory. Not all, mind you, far from it; but I cannot allow you to take back any of what you have seen to the outside world."

It was here that Doyle Henson's fear dissolved, replaced by defiant anger. "What are you going to do about it? If you lay a hand on me, I could have you sued!"

Willy smiled, a cold, malicious grin that sent a chill to Henson's heart. "Really, Mr. Henson? Tell me, good sir; how would you be able to do that if you were assailed by people who supposedly did not exist?"

There was a small sound from behind Wonka, and Henson turned his head to see… a throng of hundreds of tiny people, no taller than his knees, staring at him, their eyes mirroring Wonka's spite. Wonka looked to Henson again, addressing him in a complacent manner. "So, Mr. Henson… are you still going to tell the world about me? About my creations? About my workers, perhaps?"

Henson was speechless for a moment, but shook his head, boldness showing in his eyes. Wonka's face hardened. "Then we will have to change that." He snapped his fingers, and a party of Oompa-loompas leapt forward, tackling the stunned Henson. Another group began pulling the thrashing form of Henson through the now-open LABS door, humming along as the others began to sing…

_Doyle Henson, thought to be_

_An inspector entered the_

_Factory, and tried to spy_

_For nasty Slugworth and other guys._

_He saw our machines, our candies too_

_He saw what Willy Wonka can do_

_But an impostor he was found to be_

_And sadly now we know that we_

_Will have to use the new MACHINE_

_To wipe his mind and make it clean_

_Of everything that he saw today_

_Then fresh in mind, we send can him away._

Bewildered, Henson listened to the song, his struggling becoming weaker as he began to tire. The Oompa-loompas now had an easier time of transporting him… they pulled him in to the laboratory, where several white-coated Oompa-loompas were waiting. They gestured to the others, pointing to a large mechanism toward the back of the room, a tube-like thing that glowed with greenish light. The Oompa-loompas dragged Henson to the machine, and with some difficulty, strapped him down. He had begun struggling again, but could not free himself from the straps. "What are you going to do to me?" He cried pitifully. The Oompa-loompas ignored him, instead turning their attention to the scientists at the consoles beside the machine. They each punched in a series of commands, glancing at Wonka before pressing the COMMIT button. The machine began to buzz with energy, as it drew in Henson's weakly fighting form.

"How long should it take?" Willy asked, his voice raised slightly to be heard over the hum of the machine.

"About eight minutes… this is, after all, only a prototype."

Wonka smiled grimly. This testing would have a dual purpose… to rid them of a pesky spy, and to test the first mind reprogramming machine in human existence. If it failed, there would be no knowing the extent of problems they would have to endure. But then again, Wonka rarely, if ever, failed.

There was a kind of dinging noise, and the machine whirred to silence. The device ejected Henson, now appearing to be sleeping peacefully, and Wonka glanced to the Oompa-loompas. "You are dismissed. If this test was successful, I will escort him out." The Oompas bowed respectfully, then filed out the doors as Wonka approached Henson's still form.

"Mr. Henson?" His eyes shot open, and he sat up as he took in Wonka's form with a familiar scrutiny that Wonka recognized immediately.

"Yes, what is it? Where am I?"

Wonka groped for a reason, his eyes lighting when he found one. "Oh, you collapsed, sir, when you touched a highly sensitive pressure valve. I told you not to, but you did anyway. He put his chin in his hand, appearing to ponder. "That did some damage to my equipment, what with possibility of corrosion and all, and my workers need to be compensated now. I could always sue you, even though you gave my factory a grade-A rating..."

Henson's face paled. Apparently, the last thing he wanted was to be sued for anything. He forced an apologetic smile. "I'm terribly sorry for not listening, Mr. Wonka… but, uh, as your factory is up to date and is up to code… I should be going now."

Wonka dipped his head. "Very well. Let me escort you to the door, if only to say thanks for your consideration."

He cracked a small grin as he watched the man exit quickly through the gates, then pulled the door shut. With any luck, there would be no more attempts to penetrate his factory for another year, and whoever had sent Doyle Henson would reconsider their methods of espionage. One thing he knew they wouldn't consider was whether Mr. Henson was still loyal to them. After all, who could possibly fathom the chance that a man could change his loyalties so completely? But unknown to them, Mr. Henson had been… reoriented. He would still work for them, no matter the nastiness of the job involved. But he would never, could never, do anything against the realm of Wonka. And that was all Willy needed. The machine had been a success, proving that the mind can be reformed. There were other methods to be tested, of course… he glanced down to a formula he had scratched down on a piece of paper, a kind of candy-based serum that would ensure undying loyalty to him and his causes… he would have to brew up a batch of it in his Inventing Room, and get an Oompa-loompa to try it in the near future. Who knew… he might need it someday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Name of Wonka, Oompa-loompas, etc. belong to whatever firm owns the rights to the works of Roald Dahl (at least until the year of 2035).

Record 2965

Roaring machinery cut through the earth, sputtering and sending up clouds of dirty smoke that filled the cramped confines of the tunnel, accumulating some ten feet up near the ceiling. The grizzled foremen who worked the machines, however, were unbothered by the smoke, instead pulling out a fresh cigarette to suck on while running the drills, carting away dirt, laying iron supports. There were maybe ten of them down here underground, their path illuminated by generator-powered floodlights, the thrum of the gas motors adding to the cacophony of crumbling rock and crunching gravel. The head foreman shouted over the din. "Just another kilometer or two for today, boys! London won't die if she goes without the extended sewer system for another night!"

The workers laughed at the joke, which was true in more ways than one. They had been commissioned by the city council to expand London's sewer lines further underground, in order to protect the water mains which lay closer toward the surface. But the ignorant citizens wouldn't know the difference in the end, nor would they care. All that they cared about was the fact their utilities were disabled momentarily, at which they sent complaints with nasty connotations…but the foremen slaving beneath the earth could care even less. "Hey, boss," one man yelled, allowing the drill he was using to lie idle for a moment, "what are we going to do after this anyway? I mean, it's not like many other people need a drilling crew much anymore."

"Just shut up, Edward, and keep drilling!" the other replied, annoyed. Truthfully, he didn't know what they would do. It had been hard enough getting this job from the city, and plus they had taken it at the lowest bid. This might very well have been their last job for a long while.

Edward nodded sullenly and powered up the drill, its whirring front digging into the rock and dirt that lay before it. It sent chunks of the stuff flying backward, where three other foremen collected it with another machine, laughing while paying only half attention to their work. Suddenly there was a shout from Edward, a loud rumbling crash, and the section of wall he had been attacking collapsed on top of him, burying the drilling machine he was inside entirely. Shouts went up from the other foremen, who rushed over to the scene of the accident and frantically began digging through the rubble with their hands, cursing and swearing obscenities on behalf of Edward. After a couple of minutes, they managed to unearth part of the machine, and were able to reach in and grab Edward's limp form. They dragged him out, the boss calling for a first aid kit, though he doubted it would help.

"Edward, wake up!" the men attempted to rouse him. He was breathing, and had a pulse, but he had been knocked senseless inside the machine. "Get him outside!" the boss shouted, pointing at two of the more heavily built men. "Go call the hospital or something!"

The men rushed forward with their new tasks, frantic to save their companion's life. Meanwhile the manager looked on with worried eyes…until he noticed a sliver of light coming from the place where the wall had collapsed. "Hey, Albert," he said curiously, motioning to one of the foremen who had stayed behind while the others went for help, "What's that?"

The foreman shook his head. "I don't know. According to the map, we shouldn't be anywhere near a lighted tunnel or electrical source." He threw the collapsed section a wary look. "Want me to get someone and go check it out?"

"Yeah…" the boss said thoughtfully, glancing to where three other men stood guard over Edward's body, discussing something in low tones. "Take Phil and Cody…just in case."

Albert nodded grimly, using a hand to tug his hardhat firmly on his head. "Right, boss."

With a little persuasion, Albert convinced the other two men to leave their ailing companion's side, and investigate the strange light source. With flashlights in hand, they approached the collapsed wall, stepping over scattered pieces of debris. "How do you think this wall collapsed?" Cody asked. "According to the calculations, it should have remained stable."

"Damn you and your calculations," Phil muttered. "Just stick to the tried and true…dynamite and plenty of booze in case of accidents."

Albert threw his companion a wry look. "That's for geezers like you, Phil. This is the modern age, where we have equipment and accident immunity clauses in the contracts. And besides…" he put a hand on the rock face, where a beam of light flickered through a crack in the stone, "we have a mystery here." He patted the rock with a hand, drawing back sharply when he noticed how thin the barrier felt. "Might be three or four inches left between us and whatever is back there," he murmured, putting an eye to the crack in the wall. After a moment, he pulled himself away, shaking his head.

"What's in there?" Phil asked curiously.

"I can't tell," Albert replied, "it's too bright. But it doesn't feel hot, so it's not fire." He picked up a pickaxe he had brought with him. "Let's find out, shall we?"

By this time, help for Edward had arrived, evacuating him from the tunnel, and the remaining foremen were clearing out, turning in for the night. The manager shouted to the three men who were investigating. "You guys find out what it was?"

"Not yet, but we're working on it!" Albert shouted back, swinging his pickaxe. The stone wall was apparently stronger than he formerly thought; despite having worked on it for several minutes, he seemed no closer to penetrating it than before, the heavy steel tip only chipping the rock slightly. The manager shouted back. "Well, we're all going home for the night! You guys wanna come? You can work on that tomorrow!"

"With all due respect, sir," Phil shouted back, "I won't be able to sleep tonight unless we see what's back here!"

The manager nodded understandingly. "I'll be waiting for you at the outer checkpoint, then…I couldn't very well sleep after this incident anyway." With that, he picked up a clipboard from the hood of an idling machine and walked down the tunnel, his form silhouetted in the glare of the floodlights.

After the manager disappeared down the tunnel, Albert turned back to the wall; his eyes narrowed in determination as he attacked the stone again, Phil and Cody helping with their own tools. "It's giving way!" Cody yelled after several hard swings, smiling as the rock began to crack, the sliver of light becoming larger. He gave another hard swing, and the rock face shattered, shards of stone clattering in a rocky shower to the floor. The hole was about six feet high and three feet across, roughly a rectangle, which made Phil wonder…

"It's almost like this was a door that someone filled up with some kind of super-hard concrete," he rasped, coughing after breathing in some flying dust, which glittered in the light emanating from the hole.

"Don't be ridiculous," Albert said firmly, "no one's been here before. That much is clear by the fact that we had to dig to get here."

"I don't know," Cody said dubiously, "It was rather easy to get here, now that I think about it…the gravel we dug through was soft, as if it had been recently churned."

Albert rolled his eyes, throwing his pickaxe to the ground. "So now you want to turn this into a mystery or something, with ghoulish antagonists, like on _Ghostbusters_?"

Phil laughed. "No, you ass…I'm just saying that it's pretty weird, almost unheard of. It's a comment; don't get all bent out of shape about it."

By now, most of the dust had settled, the way before them clearing, though they were still blinded by the brilliancy. "Come on," Cody insisted, "let's go see what's here!" like a kid who had been waiting impatiently for Christmas morning; Cody rushed into the brightness, Phil and Albert following with equal anticipation. But when they were able to see clearly, all three stopped and did the exact same thing…stared with mouths gaping in disbelief. Moments after having walked into the new chamber, the stone beneath their feet turned to grass, the darkness to light, the smoky air changing into a sweetness perfumed with the most enticing flavors one could only dream of. For a moment, none of them spoke…they simply couldn't from sheer disbelief.

"Where the heck is this?" Cody whispered, eyes wide as they took in the grassy expanse before them, interspersed with brightly colored trees and rocks and bushes and shrubs, and a brown river fed by a colossal brown waterfall.

"The only words that come to mind is that 'we're not in Kansas anymore,'" Phil muttered, equally bewildered.

"I suppose the guy who wrote _Journey to the Center of the Earth_ was right somehow," Albert commented, voicing his own confusion. "Either that, or we're in Narnia." He glanced back to the hole from which they had emerged, able to see the gaping darkness staring back from the passage, a ragged tear in the hard wall.

"I…I think we should go back," Cody suggested uneasily. "What if we're not supposed to be here? What if we get caught?"

"Why would we?" Phil said, shrugging. "I don't see any 'no trespassing' signs. There weren't any on the wall out there, and there's no one here to tell us otherwise." He let his eyes wander over the grassy hills and trees and river. "I don't think I'd want to leave before being able to explore, anyway."

Albert nodded in agreement. "We need to investigate this anyway…we have a teammate injured because this was here."

"Is that really the reason?" Cody asked.

"No," Albert replied, grinning, "But it sure makes for a good excuse, doesn't it?"

The three foremen shared an adventurous look, then began walking toward the river.

Unbeknownst to them, they were indeed trespassing, and they were being watched. In a security room near the surface, several pairs of eyes were directed to the screens displaying live feed, observing as the men entered the chamber and began to walk around.

"Who the hell are those guys? How did they get in the Chocolate Room?" the Security Chief asked angrily.

"We have no idea, sir," another Loompa replied, speaking for himself and the others. "They simply came out of nowhere, having broken through the old access point, I assume."

"Well, we have to do something," the Chief muttered, "and fast. With Mr. Wonka gone on a business trip, we don't know what he would want us to do with these unexpected visitors."

"I would presume," one Loompa said, "that he would want to take them on another 'tour'."

The Security Chief nodded, smiling darkly. "Yes, he probably would. But we don't have the jurisdiction to launch one without him, nor would we have the capacity to carry it out without him. A tour needs a host to lead the guests around, does it not?"

"Indeed, but what if it wasn't a tour per se, but rather an exploration attempt on the part of the trespassers, which could be rigged by us?"

The Chief mused the thought, grinning. "Do go on."

"Then," the other Loompa continued, the eyes of the others directed to him, "we could let them see the factory and its facilities, without it being a tour. And any end they meet will surely be the fault of their own, and Mr. Wonka can find no fault with us. He only said to 'watch the factory' while he was gone, after all. And by doing this, we would be following his orders while eventually eliminating the threat."

The Chief chuckled. "I like it, I really do. But there is one problem…" he glanced to the screens, watching as the three foremen sat in the grass by the river, appearing to talk about something while puffing on cigarettes. "What if the damages caused by them in the process are monumental? There are three of them. Though they appear benign…they could break something unintentionally, steal something that could cost us dearly, or they could escape through the hole they made and try to make a commodity out of the factory." He shook his head. "I think it would be best if we just sent a security detail down there and finished them off. Mr. Wonka would be more forgiving of bloodstained sugar-grass and three dead men than he would a ruined business."

"I know," the other Loompa sighed, "but surely three missing men would lead to trouble in any case, accidental death or not." He brightened suddenly. "What if we led them along, their journey ending coincidentally with the research laboratories?"

The Chief caught on immediately. "Possible…very possible. And the Head Scientist there told me just yesterday that they developed a new mind-altering technique that they need to test, but are hesitant to use on any residents of the factory." The Security Chief smiled broadly as the plan became clear. "Alright, people," he said, walking to his station at the front of the room. He settled himself in his seat, the Duty Officer snapping to attention beside him. "We have three guests with us today who are going to get a firsthand look at our facility. I want to make sure we can get through this without any problems. Station Two, I want you to plot a course through the facility that has the least risk of loss on our part, ending at the Research Labs. Station Three, you will be in charge of overriding the doors along that course; open and close them upon my order. Four, I want you to send a precautionary warning to the civilians along the route chosen…have them take the day off or something. We don't want our visitors alarming the workforce."

The designated Loompas nodded brusquely after receiving their orders, turning toward their panels and tapping furiously at the keys. The Security Chief swiveled his chair to face the main screens, a faint smile on his face. "Let it begin."

In the Chocolate Room, the three men had finished their smokes, stamping out the cigarettes on the ground. They had discussed the strangeness of the place they were now in, and had agreed to look around before going, since the opportunity before them was 'colossal in comparison to what waited them outside', according to the intellectual Cody. Though he was significantly younger than Phil, the older man couldn't argue with the thought of further exploration in so strange a place. Albert, by convention, had to agree. So after they had put out their cigarettes and had begun walking again, the three men fed their curiosities by walking among the strange plants and shrubs that were growing in the chamber. Only when Cody decided to smell a flower did they begin to grow suspicious. "Hey, this smells kinda like…bubblegum."

Phil threw the other a disbelieving look. "What are you talking about? That's a damned flower, you idiot. A petunia, from the looks of it. It can't smell like bubblegum."

"No, really," Cody insisted. "It does. Smell it, why don't you!"

Phil gave a disgusted grunt, but he complied, his eyes widening in awe. "So it does…that 'original' flavor of bubblegum. I must say that is strange."

Cody smelled another flower. "And this one smells like watermelon, and this one like oranges. And this one…"

"Well, he's done it now," Albert muttered in amusement. "Boy's finally found a way to get his fix…smelling flowers."

Phil snorted, equally amused, but his expression became serious. "I've been thinking, sir…what if this place is indeed private property? It's underground, so of course no one would think to post signs. What if this place was one of those secret botanical research facilities that you read about in the tabloids? I mean, these flowers look beautiful, and the grass and trees and river…but what if it's something being done by the government? I would sure hate to become a liability that they want to have removed at all or any cost."

Albert nodded slowly, still watching Cody as he wandered along a kind of path, smelling the flowers. He disappeared behind a bend, his loud sniffing still audible despite the distant rumble of the waterfall.

"Hey, Cody!" Albert yelled, "Wait up!" he began walking toward the place where the other had disappeared, Phil coming right behind him. They stopped short, however, when they rounded the bend and saw what their companion was doing now.

"Cody, what the hell…"

The young man was stuffing his face with stalks of the bright grass, munching loudly. He didn't seem troubled by his friends' disdain. "I was hungry," he answered simply, stuffing his face with more grass.

"He's lost it," Phil said grimly. "It must've been the flowers, or some kind of hallucinogenic substance in them, or…"

"I'm not crazy," Cody laughed through a mouthful of grass. "It just tastes good. You should try some; really. It melts in your mouth!"

"I'm not eating any damned grass, you lunatic!" Phil snapped, but Albert stopped him, placing a hand on the other's chest. "There's no harm in trying," he said thoughtfully. He stooped down and plucked a blade of grass from the ground, delicately placing it on his tongue before closing his mouth. An instant later, a look of rapturous pleasure came to his face, and he could see why Cody was so ecstatic about the grass. The blade seemed to be made of pure sugar; feathery in consistency, and it melted away in his mouth like a breath of sweet wind, making him smile involuntarily. "It's…it's almost magical," he whispered, grinning like an idiot.

Phil slapped himself on the forehead. "Great…now I'm stuck with _two_ stupefied fools in alien territory." He roughly grabbed the two others by the shoulders and tried to drag them back to the hole in the wall, but he was stopped by a sudden hissing noise. He turned toward the sound, expecting a snake or something equally unpleasant to jump out at him, but instead saw a door sliding open in the opposite wall, a white passageway coming into view. Cody dropped the fistfuls of grass he had been clutching for the past minute, and Albert tipped his head in question. "We should leave. NOW." Phil said firmly, but Albert raised his hand to quiet him. "If I'm not mistaken, he said, his voice bearing a tone of excitement, I'm the one in charge here. I respect your experience, Phil, but you honestly can't tell me that you've experienced anything like this before." He began to walk toward the doorway, Cody matching his pace while Phil trailed reluctantly behind them. They cautiously entered the passage, the door hissing shut behind them.

After they had exited the Chocolate Room, five tiny figures appeared from behind bushes and shrubs, glancing around cautiously before emerging from their hiding places, lugging large canisters behind them. "Security, this is Repair Crew Three...requesting permission to commence repair of the break in the wall."

"Negative, Repair…we need to keep that point open until our guests have reached the end of their journey."

"But sir…what if more come through?"

"Just keep it together, Repair. We'll send some security teams your way to assist you."

The passageway was everything that the three men could have expected, sterile and brightly illuminated like someplace fresh out of a film about government conspiracy. They walked along slowly, alert for any approaching danger, but there was none, the corridors unnervingly quiet except for their footfalls, the distant thrum of some kind of machine, and the electric hum of the lights overhead. "It's quiet," Cody whispered, every nerve on fire for danger. "Where do you think everyone is?"

"Who says there is anyone?" Albert murmured thoughtfully. "What if this place is abandoned?"

"Then how did that door open?" Cody challenged.

"Beats me…maybe it was triggered by motion."

Cody grudgingly accepted the chance with a nod. "It is possible."

They continued walking, passing closed doors every few meters. There were numbers marking the doors, and strange words marked on the doors themselves. Phil read the words aloud. "Cinnamon Sticks, Delicious Darts, Edible Dishes, Fudge Frogs, Frozen Tarts, Gelatins…" he shook his head in confusion. "What kind of place is this?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," Albert answered, equally bemused. "It's like…like some weird collection of insane experiments."

"What do you think is behind the doors?" Cody wondered aloud. He tried to open one, but it was locked.

"Too bad," Phil murmured, unsympathetically. "Personally, I would rather remain in the corridor anyway."

Cody gave him a scathing look, but continued walking with his companions down the hall, unaware of the security cameras looking down at them.

The Security Chief watched in silence as the visitors trekked cautiously down the passage, guided through the maze of halls by Station Three, the Loompas manually opening and shutting the doors for their guests. "Alright," he said, watching as the guests came to a particular room, "Open the door."

"Yes, sir." one of the men at the station pressed a key, and the door slid open, the men looking curiously into it for a moment.

"I don't like the look of it," Phil said after a moment, refusing to step any farther into the room. .

"Come on…" Cody said, almost begging. "The door just said Creams. How bad can it be?"

"Let's just take a peek," Albert said slowly, edging forward to look into the open passageway. What he saw made his eyes widen. "Hey, come take a look at this!"

Cody and Phil came up beside him, equally shocked by the sight. The room, just like all the others in Wonka's factory, was huge, and designed to be pleasing to the eye as well as functional. There were, adjacent to the distant walls, huge cylindrical tanks that were made of some translucent material, most likely glass, and were filled with different coloured liquids. The tanks were marked in bold lettering, the words written large enough to be read clearly from the opposite side of the room. "Banana Cream?" Phil said.

"Hair Cream?" Cody read.

Whipped Cream?" Albert murmured. "I don't know what kind of government conspiracy this is, but they sure do have some interesting things going on."

They walked through the room, ogling the huge tubes and pipes that ran from the tanks to huge machines, and the other pipes that ran out from the machines into the floor and walls and ceiling. The pipes were everywhere, noisily sucking the stuff from the tanks and taking it somewhere that the eye could not follow. "This is so bizarre," Albert said lowly, after noticing the tiny tools that hung neatly on various racks, the tools made to accommodate the now absent Oompa-loompas.

"What kind of people run this place….midgets?"

"Maybe it's like Santa's workshop, or the Keebler elves' place," Cody suggested jokingly.

"It may as well be," Albert said, "since it's not on any map." He picked up a tiny clipboard to examine it more closely. The writing was so tiny, he could barely read it. "This place is the Cream Room, where the factory gets all its creams."

"Factory? Whose factory?" Phil asked, intrigued.

"I don't know. It doesn't say." Albert put the clipboard back, turning round to face the expanse of the chamber once more. "So…now where do we go?"

"Over there, maybe," Phil suggested, pointing toward another door.

They all walked toward it, and surely enough it swung open at their approach. The next hallway was pale blue in color, lit by the same kind of lights, and still not a soul was in sight. The door closed behind them, like the others had done, and the men resumed their walk.

"How much farther to the Labs?" the Chief asked, slightly bored. Without any of the action that had been so fundamental in the former tours, the operation they were currently undertaking was severely lacking in excitement.

"Approximately five hundred meters, sir," someone from Station Four reported.

"I wish we could give them a little scare or something," the Duty Officer said wistfully. "We don't have to kill them, just immobilize them somehow and manually transport them to the Labs for the testing."

The Chief smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's a great idea…I'll pass it along to Management. They'll know what to do."

The pale blue corridor gave way to a pink one, then to a lavender one, with plush carpeting underfoot. All the doors they passed were locked, though their markings provided a source of curiosity. "Pomegranite, Strawberry Quartz, Rock Candy Quarry, Marble and Cake…" Cody read the names of the doors with growing enthusiasm, trying every handle he passed. His companions seemed to have lost their energy many minutes ago, trudging along like they might collapse at any moment. "Hey, this door is open!" Cody said suddenly, causing the other two to reenergize instantly, their eyes shifting to where he stood, looking into another passageway. "This door said Sugar Stones," he explained as he stepped in, followed closely by the other two. The door closed behind them, a locking mechanism clicking into place. They suddenly realized they were in darkness. "Great!" Phil shouted, his real wording unprintable. "We're dead now, Cody, and it's all thanks to you!"

"Wait," Albert said, hushing his companion. "We're not dead…this passage leads further down, and I can see…" he realized with those words that he _could_ see, and after looking around he realized why. They were in some kind of mining shaft, the passage narrow but wide enough to accommodate all three of them. The ceiling was low enough for them to touch. There were large crystalline structures protruding from various places in the ceiling and floor, some of them wet to the touch, dripping with some kind of solution. The crystals were glowing.

"What is this?" Phil whispered, his eyes round in wonder. He reached for a crystal and winced when it broke free in his grip. He held it close to his face to examine, the light dancing in his eyes. The crystal seemed to glow from the inside…there were different colors that gave the tunnel a strange festive quality; pinks and purples and greens and yellows and blues. The crystal Phil held glowed a soft green, but it was clear that it was now losing its glowing property, as it began to dim in his hand until the light faded entirely, all that remained in his hand was a translucent crystal about a foot long and three inches in width. He let it drop to the ground, reaching or another, but was stopped by Albert. "Leave it; they stop glowing when you pick them." Phil grunted in annoyance, but he complied, turning instead to follow after Cody, who had ventured further down the tunnel. "I've never seen anything like this before," he said, his voice echoing strangely down the passage. "I've read about it, sure, but glowing rocks…"

His words were cut off by a distant rumble, and the three men looked around everywhere, unsure of where the sound was coming from. "We need to get out of here! Phil cried, breaking into a run. He ran back the way they had come, but Cody cried after him. "Come back! You need to stick with the rest of us!" he caught Albert by the arm before the other could get away. "Get down and cover your head!" the two men fell to the tunnel floor, ducking as some kind of quake shook the earth. Rocks began to fall from the ceiling, glowing crystals falling with them. "Phil!" Cody screamed in spite of himself, unable to see the other's fleeing form behind the cloud of dirt and debris that was showering down from the roof. The rumbling soon stopped, but not before it had brought down a pile of rocks and stone from the ceiling, blocking the way back. Phil was nowhere to be seen. "Phil?" Cody stood up, unharmed by the debris that had fallen. Albert got to his feet as well, a questioning look on his face. "Where's Phil?"

"He's gone," Cody said, choked up. "I may not have gotten along with him that much, but I still respected him. And now he's gone."

Albert put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "There, there…I'm sure we'll find him. Chances are he's hiding somewhere further along the tunnel. There's no reason he would have gone back."

"But I saw him," Cody murmured. "Running back to where we came from. He's probably dead now."

Albert was about to launch into another session of consolation, but he was interrupted by the familiar sound of a door opening, and light filtered in, brilliant in comparison with the glowing crystals. Cody shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness, and was pushed toward it by Albert "Come on. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

The Duty Officer looked on grimly as the remaining guests emerged from the Sugar Stones room. "What happened to the other one, sir?" he asked, addressing the Security Chief. "Is he dead?"

"Nah," the Chief tapped several keys on the panel in front of him, the screen above changing to show feed from another camera, situated outside the other door of the same room. Several Oompa-loompas, dressed in the white smocks of medical personnel, could be seen carrying out the unconscious, bruised foreman on a stretcher, a team of miner Loompas entering the room after the medical personnel left with their newest patient.

"What are they going in for?" The Duty Officer asked. "They've been given the day off."

"To repair the damage caused by the false quake, I assume," the Chief answered. "We don't want anything out of place, even with the visitors."

The other nodded, but looked worried. "What about that guy the doctors carried out? What if he's dead?"

"I assume he's not," the Chief answered. "Medical sent me a message saying he was alive, but unconscious…so much the better for him, I guess…he won't have to be awake for whatever process the Lab has in store for him."

The Duty Officer grimaced at the thought, but didn't say anything else.

Albert and Cody walked slowly down the hall, Cody continually glancing back toward the place they had come from. "I…I can't believe he's gone." He lowered his head as he walked. "And it's all my fault, too…I should have listened to him and we should have gone back and gone home and…"

"Keep it together, man!" Albert said firmly, slapping his companion in the face. The other silenced, his eyes focusing. "You're…you're right. Phil would want us to be smart and calm." He swallowed roughly, but stopped fretting.

"Now," Albert said, glancing down the hall, "I have no idea how to get back to where we came from. But surely there is another access point to the surface from here, right? There is always another one in the movies." He began walking forward again, the hall seeming to stretch forever in front of him. Cody followed closely behind, afraid that he might get separated from his only companion at any moment. All that they encountered down that long corridor were the same doors and walls, the same plush carpet that dampened their footfalls, the same humming lights that now seemed too bright and harsh. "How far do you think this goes?" Cody said tiredly, sinking to the ground to rest for a few moments.

"Maybe miles," Albert said, glancing to his watch. "It's almost twelve in the morning…way past quitting time. If I'm not mistaken, our boss should be worried and looking for us."

"That's comforting," Cody said sarcastically. "Then he'll get lost like the rest of us."

"Don't underestimate the boss," Albert said, smiling faintly. "He's not someone to be reckoned with."

At the mouth of the tunnel, the manager of Drills for Hire glanced at his timepiece, noting the lateness of the hour. "Where are those guys?" he muttered to himself, pulling out a cigar from the box in his pocket. Three hours had passed since the strange anomaly had been encountered in the tunnels; Edward the unfortunate victim had been taken to a hospital and was in stable condition; the doctors having said that he could go home in the morning. The boss was relieved for that…even though the whole incident had been an accident; there was no clause in the company contract giving him any protection from Edward's notorious wife. If anything irreparable had happened to her husband, she would make it her life's goal to vex him for the rest of his natural life. He shook his head at the thought, wondering what his own wife would say about it. Probably something about 'what you sow you reap' or something like that…he glanced at his watch again, shaking his head. _Where are those guys?_ He looked to one of the men who were still hanging around, keeping him company. "Hey, come into the tunnel with me, will you? I need to check on something."

The other nodded picking up his hard hat and putting it on his head. "Right behind you, sir."

Phil opened his eyes, his sight blurry at first, but it cleared after he blinked a couple of times. He realized that he was still alive, and that he was no longer in a dark tunnel illuminated by glowing crystals, but was instead in some kind of bed in a white room, lit by bright lights and blinking machines. Had it just been some kind of dream? He tried to turn his head to look around, but found that his head was secured by some strap across his forehead, as were his hands and feet and chest. He struggled against his bindings, panic flaring in his chest. "Calm down," a voice said from beside him. He shifted his eyes as far as he could, but could not make the speaker out clearly. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I am a doctor," the other answered, not untruthfully.

"A doctor?" Phil asked, calming slightly. "Am I in a hospital? Why am I restrained?"

"Because," the voice said calmly, "You were in an accident. We brought you back to health, despite your convulsions. That is why you were strapped; so that you would not harm yourself."

Phil wasn't entirely convinced. "What about Albert? Cody? The tunnel and the weird things we saw underground…what were…"

"A dream," the voice said, just as cool as before. "Your friends are alright. They are wondering about you right now, talking about you in the hall here."

"Can I see them?" Phil asked, growing anxious. "Can they come in?"

"Not yet, not yet," the voice said, soothingly, "but soon. You must rest now; they will be here to join you shortly."

Phil was about to ask another question, but he felt a sting on his neck, and drowsiness set in instantly upon him…

Albert and Cody were still wandering the halls, unwittingly drawing closer and closer to the Research Laboratories. But before they got there, another door slid open, permitting entrance to another room. This time, Cody was significantly less enthusiastic about looking into the mystery, his eagerness checked by fear, regret, and lack of sleep. At Albert's insistence, however, he stepped in, just barely able to glimpse the words on the door before passing. "Hair Growth Research…great." despite his wryness, his words were justified moments after he let his eyes sweep across the room. it was indeed great…much like the other room they had been in, with the huge tanks and pipes and consoles. But this time, there were also multiple vats that were tilled with steaming liquid, and chairs set up in the middle of the chamber that were similar to barber's chairs. Albert couldn't help but be reminded of a play he had seen some time ago. "I don't like it here…" he murmured, noticing various trays that held hair clippings and sharp, glittering razors. "Reminds me too much of _Sweeney Todd_. We should get out of here before some crazed barber comes out of nowhere and tries to decapitate us while giving us a complimentary shave."

Cody agreed, backing out slowly until he was again in the passageway. Albert was right behind him, but in the split second between him and the doorway, the door slid shut faster than the eye could track, separating the two foremen. "NO!" Cody screamed, banging the door. "What the HELL is going on!" He pounded the door with his fists, glaring upwards where he finally noticed the security camera staring unblinkingly at him. "Damn you, whoever you are!" he made an extremely inappropriate hand gesture at the camera.

In the Security Room, the Chief laughed at the motion.

"Albert…can you hear me?" Cody shouted, hoping his voice carried through the door.

"Yes, I can," the other replied, his voice muffled.

"We're being watched," Cody said. "I think we've been watched the whole time…there's a security camera and…."

"That's all very nice, Cody," Albert said, "but I'm going to take a look in here since I'm trapped. The door should open up after a while, right? Or if I find another door somewhere. Don't worry about me; I'll catch up with you or something."

"I'm not leaving," Cody said firmly, backing up against the door. He felt slightly comforted by the feeling of something solid behind his back, but the comfort was negated when he recalled the sight of the camera overhead.

"Security Room, this is Repair Crew Three! We have unidentifieds approaching the access point! Please advise!"

"How many of them are there, Repair?"

"Two, maybe three! Five-footers, wearing hardhats! They're looking for those guys you let in!"

The Security Chief exchanged a look with the Duty Officer beside him. "Hold your position, Repair. Is the security detail with you?"

"Yes sir; they are awaiting your orders as well."

"Tell them to hold steady; open fire only if they see you, and only aim for the nonlethal areas."

"But sir…what about leaving evidence? Our weapons are not standard. If they get embedded in the men's soft tissue, they can bring it back to the surface."

"Not if you use armor piercing rounds," the Chief replied grimly. "But only do so in the case of utmost urgency; we want as little bloodshed as possible. "

"We copy."

Albert had explored every inch of the strange room…all the machines and chairs and doors and vats. He had found it all very intriguing, but his interest was checked after his belly started growling, and his head began to ache from lack of sleep. He settled himself in one of the barber chairs, deciding to catch a few winks before resuming his search for escape.

Cody, too, had dozed off, his head slumped, his chin resting against his chest. He was so tired from trekking, and so worried about his companion, that he fell into an exhausted unconsciousness. He was unaware of the approaching multitude of footsteps, and the tiny hands that carried him the last twenty feet down the hall to the Research Lab. The same happened to Albert, who had passed out entirely in the chair…but not before a mischievous Loompa gave him a trim with one of the razors….leaving a bald patch on the back of his head.

The manager and his companion approached the strange source of light, the gaping hole looking strange against the blackness of the tunnel. "This is where the accident happened," the manager explained, pointing to the idle drilling machine. "Edward was working this, and the section of rock just collapsed on him. We got him out, then we noticed that there was light emanating from the stone face…I guess our boys got in and are investigating." He began to walk toward the light, his instincts screaming at him to turn back, to not 'go towards the light at the end of the tunnel', but he seemed drawn forward by an unexplainable force, as a moth is drawn to flame.

Inside the Chocolate Room, several Loompas tightened their fingers around the triggers of their weapons, faces hardening.

In the Security Room, the Duty Officer and Security Chief held their breaths; waiting for the moment chaos would strike…

"Boss!"

Three foremen greeted their employer at the access point, stupid grins on their faces. The hidden Loompas watched in confusion as the men walked across the grass, ignoring everything around them as if it wasn't there. The three turned the manager away from the light, and began walking him and his companion the opposite way down the tunnel. The Loompas relaxed their grips as they watched the group leave, the Loompas on the Repair Crew snapping to attention, ready for work. "Security Room…"

"You may begin sealing the hole, Repair…and do it quickly.

The Security Chief set the microphone down, releasing a stale breath of air that he had been holding. The Duty Officer did likewise, and the other Loompas in the room seemed to relax. The Chief contacted the Labs. "How did your experiment go?"  
"Well…" the Head Scientist replied on the other end, "We're still here, aren't we?"

The Chief gave a genuine smile as he answered, knowing it would show in his voice. "We sure are…thanks to you."

As they walked down the tunnel, the manager tried to get the story out of the three men. "What happened to you guys? What was back there?"

"Nothing," Cody said, his voice strangely subdued. His eyes had lost their former vitality, but he walked with the same energy as he had before.

"But there must have been something,, " the other insisted. "What was that light?"

"What light?" Phil asked. "I didn't see any."

"Now, I know you like to play skeptic, Phil, but really…there was a light back there. I saw it. You saw it. These guys saw it…"

"No we didn't," Albert said contrarily. "I only found rock and dirt and more rock. That stone is all we're going to find. The tunnel needs to be diverted alongside the stone."

"I don't believe you," the manager said. "I stay here half the night so you guys can go investigate something that I told you to look into in the first place, and then you tell me you found nothing? You could at least have the decency to tell me that you saw what I know you saw and just leave it as some unexplainable phenomena."

The three foremen exchanged a look. "What phenomena? There's nothing back there."

"Like hell there isn't…." the manager muttered. "Look back there, and tell me what you see!"

The three complied, glancing over their shoulders. "I see nothing. Nothing but the same old rock and dirt and stone."

The boss muttered an invective under his breath. "How can you say that…" his words died in his throat as he looked over his own shoulder…to see nothing but stone, the brilliant light he had seen…or thought he had seen…was gone. "Great…now _I'm_ the one seeing things?" the boss shook his head, muttering as he walked down the tunnel. "What's wrong with him?" Cody asked. "I don't know, Phil said with a shrug, "but I think Albert's the one with the real problem. Who's your barber, man?"

Albert put a hand to the back o his head, his eyes widening in horror

In the Security Room, hundreds of meters away, the Loompas saw the look on the man's face…and laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Name of Wonka, Oompa-loompas, etc. belong to whatever firm owns the rights to the works of Roald Dahl (at least until the year of 2035).

Record 4265, Wonka Archive

_London, England_

A black and white car pulled up to the roadside, its pistons squealing awfully as it came to a halt, the noise amplified in the chilled, early spring air. The driver and two passengers disembarked from within the transport, three pairs of loafered feet alighting on the cold, cobblestone pavement and car doors slamming shut with a thud. One of the men looked to the other two, his attire neat and professional, a black pinstripe suit accentuating his trim figure, providing a stark contrast to the pale yellow of the envelope he carried. His two companions, though not as spiffily dressed as he, looked respectable as well: tan pants and pressed white shirts, the look rounded off with the application of the shiny badges issued them by Scotland Yard, pinned to the exterior of their dark overcoats. Indeed, the whole party looked formidable, but the intent for which they had come to this destination was anything but. The man carrying the manila envelope glanced to the other two, his eyes nervous. "No one has seen him for years," he said lowly, picking up on some conversation that had begun in the vehicle. "We don't even know if he's there anymore."

One of the others, a policeman, gave the man a reassuring smile. "Mr. Bryant, don't worry; we'll get this whole thing sorted out. Someone's bound to be there, if not the ol' man hisself. After all, the company is pumping out so many goods, probably more than it ever has.

The second policeman nodded, his eyes ominous. "The profit he makes must be enormous, considering the sheer number of stores that carry his products. And to top it off with tax evasion…"

Bryant nodded uncomfortably. "Yes, yes. That's why I've been sent, to get this sorted out. I don't think it's Mr. Wonka's fault that he missed the payments… after all, such can be overlooked after a period of bankruptcy. But he seems to have gotten better, and so he needs to be informed… the amount he has missed out on paying is…" he peeked into the folder, "…nine hundred thousand pounds."

The policemen exchanged a surprised glance. "Well, let's get this over with, then, before the number rises any higher, and we have to take him in for sure. It would sure be a shame, because I like his candies."

_Wonka's factory, Security Room_

The room was illuminated by the light of several monitors, flickering with feed from external security cameras that were strategically placed around the perimeter of the factory. The screens were watched by two men, Oompa-loompas, who noted the activity in Grid Sector O-02 and N-03. They exchanged a concerned look. "What do you think is going on?"

The other shrugged. "Beats me. But from the looks of the two men with the badges, it might be important."

"Think we should tell Mr. Wonka?"

"Of course." The Oompa-loompa reached over the console and pressed a button, the control linking him directly to Wonka's office. "Mr. Wonka?"

"Yes, what? This had better be bloody important."

"I think it may be, sir. We have company…"

Bryant reached out his hand to knock on the massive gate. It was the most logical thing he could think of doing after finding no intercom button or guard booth. Before he could lay a hand on the cast iron, however, the door somehow began to open on its own, unseen hands pulling it back, the panel creaking mightily on hinges that had not been used for ages. The sudden movement surprised Bryant so much, that he leapt back, startled; but after a moment he regained his composure and stepped inside, flanked by the two policemen. The escorts themselves looked amazed too, after glancing about and seeing no cameras or workers in sight. After a moment's worth of observing what awaited them, the three stepped forward, each man feeling slightly unnerved when the gates swung shut behind them, closing with a dull, metallic clang. For a minute, they hesitated at the edge of the enclosed space, thinking for the briefest of instances that it might be a trap… until a booming voice, seeming to come from nowhere, split the frigid air. "COME FORWARD!"

Without a reason to argue, the three walked deeper into the enclosure, Bryant now trembling, his escorts cool and determined. The clicking of their shoes on the cobblestone walkway filled the silence that had been left in the wake of the loud voice, and for a moment it seemed quiet… too quiet. The contingent reached the end of the path, now facing a pair of huge metal doors, which, like the gates, swung open automatically at their approach. This time, however, a man appeared from within, dressed in the strangest combination of clothing the visitors had ever seen. He wore brown loafers, tan pants, a plum-velvet coat, a top hat, and a most brilliant smile. He extended a hand to the three. "Good morning, sirs. How can I help you today?"

Bryant forced his anxiety down and clasped the other's hand in his own, forcing a grin. "Hello, sir. I'm John Bryant, with the IRS." He flashed his identification.

The other continued to smile, as if he were overjoyed to have made a new acquaintance, indifferent to the man's occupation. "William Wonka. It's a great pleasure, Mr. Bryant. And who are these two gentlemen?" He gestured to the men behind.

They both fumbled for their own identification. "Detective Inspector Hugh Fitz."

"Officer Walter Beck."

Wonka shook their hands as well, vigorously pumping their arms as if he were simply brimming with energy. "Wonderful, wonderful." His voice suddenly became serious, though his face was still all smiles. "Now, friends, what business brings you come to the gates of my humble establishment?"

Bryant absently tugged at his collar. "We apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Wonka; I would have called to schedule a proper meeting, but the telephone number in the directory seems to be nonfunctional."

"Telephone?" Wonka echoed, but Bryant didn't hear it.

Instead, he continued. "There are some important matters of the government that I have been sent to take up with you, concerning your tax evasion."

Willy's eyes narrowed. "I see. Therefore the presence of the authorities, I suppose."

"Yes, well…"

"If it's a meeting you want, come inside. I can spare a few moments to settle things with you."

He stepped aside, allowing the three to enter the building, then he closed the door.

Inside, the building was exceedingly warm, and the three were force to shed their coats. They looked apologetically to Wonka, who smiled in understanding. "Just throw your coats anywhere; you can pick them up later on the way out."

The three guests complied, then followed Wonka a little ways down the corridor, to where a number of plush chairs were arranged atop a luxurious rug in the middle of the broad passageway.

"Have a seat, gentlemen, and we can begin our talk."

Bryant noted the furniture with an upraised brow. "Here? Don't you have an office or something? A proper place to hold a meeting?"

Willy smiled in amusement. "Of course I do! But this place is as good as any other, no? Besides, I personally think that these chairs are more comfortable than the ones in my office."

Detective Inspector Fitz tipped his head in question. "Why are they here, then? Shouldn't your office be more comfortable than the, uh… walkway?"

"Nonsense!" Willy answered, laughing. "I couldn't fathom such a thing! When it comes to my business, gentlemen, I spare nothing! I can't stand unsightliness, especially in the common places of my facility. That's why I take great care to decorate the place, or make it decent, at least. Notice this hall, for example. It is spacious, wide, and furnished in the most fashionable way."

Bryant glanced to the ceiling, then to the floor, noting the dark red carpet and periwinkle walls, and stifled a sniff of amusement. "I beg to differ; Mr. Wonka… this form of ornamentation has been out of style for…"

"So what?" Willy said, his tone dismissive. "I really don't have the time to redecorate, anyway. Too much business and work and all…"

"Which brings us to the point of my coming here, Mr. Wonka." Bryant stated, hesitantly lowering himself into one of the plum-velvet chairs behind him. Wonka and the two policemen did the same. Wonka stared attentively at Bryant as Bryant began his delivery. The man opened the dossier in his hand, glancing over the first page. "We have records of your business, copies of all the forms and contracts you signed several years ago when your company began. You agreed to all the terms and conditions listed in the documents, one of which mentioned internal revenue." He flipped a page, reading the summary it contained. "Basically, you agreed to pay the government a percentage of your profits in order to continue your business."

"That is absolutely preposterous," Willy muttered, "but I do remember signing the agreement, and even following the contract for a while. So why have you come now?"

Bryant closed the file, turning to gaze directly at Wonka. "Because it seems that you have defaulted on your payments, ever since your factory closed. But now it is open again, and it looks like you are successful now, even more so perhaps, and can afford to make payment on your dues. The government just sent me to make sure you remember your contract, and respect it."

"I see," Willy said, chin in hand as he mused aloud. "And I suppose that, if I refused… not that I'm saying I will… and continued to default on my payments, you would arrest me, an old candymaker, and close my business for good?"

Bryant cleared his throat. "If it came to that, sir. I'm afraid that age doesn't exclude you from the rules, or put you above the law."

"True," Willy said, nodding. "Which is why I will pay my dues; I certainly have no problem with that, monetary or behavior-wise." He said this while rising from his seat. "I have no qualms or quarrels concerning this settlement, but I do have one request."

Bryant stood as well, pausing to smooth down the wrinkles on his pants. "Fine, fine; so long as it is within legal guidelines, of course."

"Of course," Willy repeated, his eyes sparkling. "My only request, dear friends, is that you allow me the honor of showing you the reason for my seclusion, the purpose for which I live and breathe, who I am and why I shy away from the world of men. Come with me, and I will show you a world of pure imagination, the world in which I live, the one of my creation; my factory."

Bryant shared an uncomfortable glance with the two policemen, hesitant to take the candymaker up on the offer, but he nodded. "That sounds fine, Mr. Wonka, as long as I get back in time to file the report."

Wonka smiled pleasantly. "Certainly, certainly my fine sir… I am confident my little tour will take almost no time at all. Now, if you will follow me." The candymaker turned, walking deeper into the hall, the company following him closely. They walked along at a steady pace until the pathway ended, the way barred by a huge, steel door.

"This door," Wonka said while motioning to the smooth metal panel, "is all that separates my factory from the world, a dream from reality… a sheet of metal no thicker than four inches in thickness." He smiled fondly as he pulled a long key from within his coat, and proceeded to unlock the door. "From this point on, gentlemen, I strongly urge you to observe, but be careful. Everything you see will be considered private; can't go having you blab my secrets to everyone, now, and besides that, what you see may be dangerous to the inexperienced handler. Therefore, I warn you: do not touch, taste, or evoke anything without permission, and for your own safety, please stay close. Odd things have been known to happen here."

Bryant swallowed. "Things such as…"

"Just things," Willy said vaguely, waving a hand glibly. "Things always happen, whether you want them to or not. Now, come along; we can't waste precious time with needless chatter!"

He put a hand to the door and pushed, the thing swinging inward, permitting a course of release for a barrage of smells, scents, and sounds that assailed the members of the group. The noise was not loud, but permeated the very air, a distant rumble that sounded like the purring of a very large cat, or an engine of some sort, or maybe a hidden piece of machinery that was chugging away unceasingly. The smells were a mixture of the loveliest and mystifying aromas known to man- crisp, icy wintergreen and tropical orchid and spicy cinnamon and tangy orange and other scents too wonderful or muddled to describe. And, underlying this torrent of exotic odors, was the dominant smell of rich, melted chocolate, so strong and powerful, one could almost taste it in his mouth. Officer Beck smiled dumbly in awe. "Wow… smell that, would you? What is that?"

"This place is the main atrium of my plant, the normal access point for the common rooms of my factory," Willy explained. This is where I make the stuff you see on shelves everywhere: taffies and sugar powders and tarts and mints and things of that sort. See these doors?" He pointed to the wall nearest him, where a pink door stood, a sign on it reading COTTON PLANTATION. "Each door leads to a different room where I make a different candy, the source of all the smells in here."

"What the heck is in there?" Officer Fitz asked, having read the sign with some perplexity. Wonka flashed him a knowing grin. "Precisely what it says, dear sir. Would you like to see/"

He steered the group to the door, opening it with a key similar to the one he had used before, this one smaller. Opening the door, he revealed a space about as large as a closet, and shoved the three in ahead of him, they protesting with startled exclamations. "What are you doing, Mr. Wonka? There's nothing in here!"

"We'll be squashed like sardines!"

"Let me out!"

Wonka calmly answered them by closing the door, and speaking soothingly. "Hush, hush my dear sirs, else you might have a conniption before the real fun begins! We wouldn't want that, now would we? Now, stand still for a moment and savor the darkness."

Fitz and Beck complied, but Bryant, far from being calm, began to sweat nervously. After the passing of a minute, nothing seemed to have changed, except perhaps Bryant's rate of breathing, and the level of discomfort in the tiny room. Bryant finally couldn't take it any longer. "Mr. Wonka, I want out!"

"Alright!" Wonka huffed, his tone one of exasperation, but betraying the hint of a smile. "Come along."

He opened the door, and much to the puzzlement of the guests, led them out into an enormous chamber. High, blue ceilings stretched upward, creating the visual effect of a midsummer day, and on the ground, sprawling fields composed of dark soil and rows of short, fluffy bushes reached into the distance. Wonka turned to the three. "So, what do you think? Is it not amazing?"

Bryant, Fitz, and Beck said nothing. They couldn't, so great was their amazement. After a minute of quiet observance, Officer Fitz finally spoke, voicing his confusion. "So what is all this, exactly? What are these bushes? What is this place?"

"This," Wonka said spreading his arms to encompass the entirety of the chamber, "Is a plantation. See that building over there? That's the rest house, for my workers…"

"Where are the workers?" Beck asked curiously, but Wonka hushed him with a hand.

"Please, don't interrupt. Now, this soil is composed of the finest ground cocoa, and these lines of plants are cotton… candy cotton to be exact."

Bryant looked incredulous. "Mr. Wonka, you must be joking…"

"Do I look like I'm joking? Go ahead, try some of it. Just pull some right off the bush and eat it! I guarantee- it'll taste delicious!"

Spurred by their host's enthusiasm, and slightly unnerved, the three men tentatively reached down and pulled bits of the fluff from the bushes, hesitating before putting it into their mouths. Fitz was the first to respond, his eyes glimmering in wonderment. "This is incredible! So sugary and soft!"

The others nodded in agreement, too embarrassed to voice their own surprise to voice their opinions. Beck, however, suddenly broke the silence, his eyes directed to something out in the field. "What is that?" He pointed, and three pairs of eyes followed… until everyone caught a glimpse of what he had seen- tiny men, no taller than the cotton candy bushes, walking amidst the plants, inspecting them. Wonka smiled. "They're my workers. Oompa-loompas."

"Oompa-what?"

Willy sighed… sometimes he got tired of explaining the same thing, even if it was to different people. "Oompa-loompas, imported directly from Loompa-land."

"Where the heck is that?"

"Somewhere in Africa," Willy replied, his mind turning to past thoughts. "Deep in the jungle, a place infested with the most terrible beasts known to man. The place is so wild; there are no maps of it, perhaps because all the mapmakers and explorers got eaten. But that is beside the point. The thing that matters is that the Oompa-loompas came here to work for me, and they get paid well and seem to have a jolly time with it. They are such excellent workers, though they have been known to play silly tricks."

Bryant opened his mouth to ask a question, but he was interrupted by a loud sucking sound, not unlike the noise of a vacuum cleaner, but amplified many times over.

"WHAT'S THAT NOISE?" Beck asked, eyes darting about to look for the source of the terrible noise. Wonka didn't answer, except to glance toward the ceiling, where a huge snake-like mechanism came into view, stretching toward the ground until it touched down on the field like the funnel of a tornado, the thing sucking up swaths of purple and pink and blue fluff, stripping the rows of cotton bushes of their sugary cotton. It was then that Bryant realized that the Oompa-loompas were nowhere in sight, and that Beck was no longer standing with the group. "BECK!?" he called out suddenly, though his voice was drowned out by the noise of the hose, which had drawn closer to their side of the field. "BECK, YOU ASS, WHERE…"

His eyes suddenly caught sight of a human form, standing stupidly in the middle of the field, looking dumbly at the approaching danger. Bryant looked to Wonka, who was watching the debacle unfolding, but did nothing to intervene. "MR. WONKA, WE NEED TO HELP HIM!"

"We can't." Wonka said firmly, his voice quiet, but Bryant heard them since he was standing so close. The two words sent a chill trickling down Bryant's spine, and he watched helplessly as the seemingly frozen Beck was caught up in a whirl of wind and swirling candy-cotton, and disappeared inside the huge hose. Fitz watched too, mouth agape in disbelief. "He was… and it just came and took him… and now he's going to be made into candy somewhere…"

Though his disbelieving stammering was somewhat muted by the sound of the sucking hose, Wonka heard him, and turned, a determined look on his face. "He most certainly will not," he said resolutely, now audible because the vacuum had finished its sweep of the field, and retracted back into the ceiling.

"And why not?" Fitz asked angrily, wondering what was going to happen to his unfortunate partner.

"Because it would taste horrible!" Wonka retorted, making a face. "No one would buy it, unless I somehow market it in a cannibalistic country, give it a catchy name, bright packaging perhaps… hmmm."

"I can't believe you're actually talking about this!" Fitz wailed. "We've got to find him! He might be in the tube, somewhere we can still get him…"

"Oh, calm yourself, man… you're giving me a headache. Besides, it looks like my workers would like to cheer you up with a little song." As Wonka said this, the two remaining guests looked up to see dozens of Oompa-loompas standing in the field, quite visible now that the cotton-bushes were naked of fluff. The little men began to hum and sway, bursting forth into choir-like song.

_Walter Beck, the unfortunate cop_

_Was mixed up with our cotton crop_

_What tragedy that even we_

_Would not have thought of nor foreseen_

_We thought that maybe he would see_

_The coming of catastrophe_

_Approaching danger coming near_

_And would have run away in fear_

_So sadly now we see the right_

_Not everyone on Earth is bright_

_For instead of running from the threat_

_Walter was whisked up by it_

_But all this could have been prevented_

_Had the idiot relented_

_From being curious and bold_

_And just do as he had been told_

_To stay behind with the master_

_But now his ending will come faster_

_For even now as we speak_

_Walter's lungs are growing weak_

_His last breath having abated_

_Mr. Beck is suffocated_

_Because he failed to obey_

_With his life, the man will pay…_

"That was rather sad," Wonka said reflectively as he herded Bryant and Fitz to the door, which they were now able to see, was in fact the entrance to a lift. Now that there were only three people in the little elevator, and the two guests were subdued by their companion's demise, the ride back up was quiet, except for the hum of the elevator and a fretful muttering from Wonka. "I do hope the harvest wasn't contaminated… could an intact body do that? If it did, I suppose I could package the lot and mark the bags as 'cadaver flavored', and sell it to some place like Tula, or Tonga, or wherever there's headhunters and people like that, and it should be all right."

The two with him listened in bewilderment, but said nothing. After a few moments, the lift stopped, and Wonka opened the door as he had before, leading the other two out, back into the main hall.

"Come along, come along; there are some key places I would like you to see."

"Are they as dangerous as the, uh… Cotton Plantation?" Fitz asked, eyes dark with sullen sorrow for his lost friend. Wonka shook his head. "They shouldn't be, provided you listen to what I tell you. Mr. Beck should have stayed with us, like I had said."  
"He didn't know," Fitz replied defensively. "He didn't see the hose, and he didn't hear me calling. But you should've done something! You should've turned it off, or told your workers to get him out of there, or…"

"Compose yourself, Mr. Fitz, just calm down. Accidents happen all the time, and are easily remedied. I'm sure your friend is fine."

"But the Oompa-loompas…"

"Pay them no mind. They think everything's a big joke! Now, if you will follow me into this room here…" Wonka unlocked a door, white this time, marked in big black letters: DAIRY COWS. Bryant wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You keep animals in your factory?"

"Well, of course. Where else would I get my milk?" Wonka pushed the door inward, stepping into the chamber with Bryant and Fitz close behind. The two men had been expecting a wave of stench to greet them, manure and sweat and hay and other smells commonly associated with farms and the furry denizens thereof, but there was none. What they saw, though, made them look twice. The entire chamber was white, the floors and ceilings and walls, and the floorspace was divided into large pens by an arrangement of fences, in which lay and stood a variety of cows, white ones and brown ones and reddish-pink ones, lazily turning to stare at the newcomers with large, languid eyes. One let out a soft moo, and Wonka broke into a smile. "Meet my pretty cows. They give the best milk in the country, chocolate and strawberry and…"

"Mr. Wonka," Bryant interrupted, "Shouldn't these animals be allowed to roam in a field somewhere? And what about their, um… excreta?"

Wonka looked him in the eye. "I don't see any, do you?"

"No, but…"

"And they _do_ get to roam, Mr. Bryant. Thrice a day. But milking time is soon, so they've been herded back inside until the field is replenished and they've been milked."

Fitz looked confused. "What field? Where?"

"The pasture, through those doors over there," Wonka said while pointing vaguely behind himself. "Acres of pasture, planted with the most nutritious, sweetest sugar grass, to make the cows' milk is sweet and creamy."

"You said they make chocolate milk," Fitz continued. "How's that possible?"

"A simple tweak of genetics," Willy replied simply, "the same process used to make their digestive systems efficient enough to allow them to absorb everything they ingest, thereby eliminating, in answer to your earlier question, the need for them to pass wastes. Besides, it's much better that way; the cows sure seem happier, and the milk is delicious. The white cows make white milk, the brown cows make chocolate milk, and the pink cows make strawberry milk. It's all common sense, really."

Bryant looked unsure, but he knew enough not to question the other's logic. "If you say so, Mr. Wonka."

"I do. Now, moving right along, let's go to the next room, right through this door." Wonka walked to the side of the chamber, exiting through a stainless steel door, Bryant and Fitz trailing after him.

The room they entered, like the first, was large and white and sterile, but was filled with the sound of clucking and cackling and squawking and crowing, the pens inhabited by hundreds and hundreds of feathery figures. "Chickens?!" Fitz exclaimed in bewilderment.

"Yes, chickens. Two hundred forty-nine of them, to be exact."

Bryant made a face. "What do you use them for?"

"Well, what everyone uses them for. Eggs."

"Eggs?!"

"Certainly. And these are no ordinary chickens, mind you. Though they do sometimes lay normal eggs, which I use to make omelets for my breakfast more often than not; most of what they produce are the richest, most chocolatey eggs imaginable."

"And I guess they were made by a simple 'tweak of genetics' as well?" Fitz asked with sarcasm, but Willy beamed. "You catch on quickly, man! Now that you finally seem to get it, and you've seen some of the ordinary stuff, I'd like you to show you something that is more of an experiment than anything else." Wonka led the two out, trotting back into the main hall. They crossed the atrium, coming to stand before a blue door marked AQUARIUM.

"Now, the last room was relatively childproof, no danger there. But this room is still under construction, as it is reasonably new. This door is the entrance to the observatory level, and there are no safety bars in place yet, so I'd like for you to be especially cautious in here."

The three entered the chamber, a space that was massive like all the others. This time, however, the group found themselves standing on a catwalk, a metal walkway suspended some thirty feet above the ground. They could see large vats ten feet below, filled with translucent liquid, and the tiny shapes of Oompa-loompas rushing about in the floorspace between them. Fitz whistled, impressed. "Amazing. What is all that down there? Liquid candy? Toxic chemicals?"

"Water. Sugar water."

Bryant threw Wonka a questioning glance. "What for?"

"For the aquarium, of course. Those vats are massive, because they are the living space for living creatures."

"Sea creatures?

"Sugar-based sea creatures. Edible sea creatures. Things like jellyfish and peanut-butterfish and cranberry crabs and stuff like that."

Fitz's brow was furrowed in confusion. "Whatever for? And why would they need to be put in the vats if they're just some kind of candy?"

"Because they're alive, just like my cows and chickens. I made them through experimentation, trying to develop a candy that children could eat underwater, but I made something living instead. So I decided not to sell them, and to keep them here in my factory, safe from the world in which they were certain to be gobbled up. Besides, they are animate. They are alive and deserve a suitable place to live. The ocean would never do, because they would shrivel up and probably get eaten by whales or something like that. And lakes and rivers wouldn't suffice either, because they would dissolve like sugar in water. So they live here in the aquarium, the Sugar/Water balance maintained by a group of specially trained Oompa-loompas."

"How… interesting, Mr. Wonka," Bryant said, his tone disbelieving. "You must be a very clever man."

"Thank you, Mr. Bryant," Wonka replied, voice hardening, "but do not patronize me. I understand your disbelief, but if you just look down, you might be able to see the creatures swimming about." He bent a little to look over the side, the two beside him doing the same. "They might be near the surface, since it's almost feeding time… oh, look! There's one!" Wonka jumped up in excitement, his hat almost flying off the top of his head.

"I don't see anything," Bryant said scornfully. Fitz, however, couldn't really make anything out from his angle. "I think I see, I saw something moving down there." he leaned over a little more, then a little more, until… he lost his balance and fell from the catwalk, yelling in terror as before landing headfirst into the tank below, sending up a blast of water in a large splash. Bryant looked to Wonka, his face a mask of horror. "We got to get him out of there, Mr. Wonka! We need to get him out before one of those things gets him!"

Wonka flashed him a grim smile. "I thought you said you didn't see anything, Mr. Bryant; that you said it was impossible for anything to be down there."

"But…"

"Besides, it looks like our friend knows how to swim, the way his head keeps bobbing up to the surface for air. I'm sure he'll be fine until one of the Oompa-loompas can get him out."

The Loompas, on the other hand, seemed to have a different idea, as they started to laugh and clap, beginning to sing another dirge, as Fitz struggled at the surface, unable to scream as he was caught by the leg and pulled underwater.

_Inspector Fitz, by Joe, by gum_

_Fell into the Aquarium!_

_And now will get the chance to see_

_The creatures of the mighty sea_

_Butter-fish and vanilla whales_

_Puffer fish with grapey scales_

_Jelly eels and jam eels as well_

_Anemones with tangerine gel_

_Lemon sharks with yellow fins_

_Lime sharks and their toothy grins_

_Seahorses made of peanut brittle_

_A crème-puff crab and its creamy middle_

_But long before he meets his end,_

_Mr. Fitz will soon befriend _

_All these beasts and many more_

_As he nears the aquarium floor_

_And when his foot touches the ground_

_Right before he starts to drown,_

_He will have the misfortune to find_

_These candy-fish are not too kind._

Bryant's eyes grew wide as he looked to the dancing Oompa-loompas, incredulous at the words he was hearing them say, that they weren't helping the fallen Fitz. That was when he looked into the top of the bubbling tank and realized... the Inspector was no longer there. "HUGH!" His eyes scanned the water's surface, searching desperately for any sign of his ill-fated companion, when he noticed a patch of foam, tinged red. His face drained of color. "Fitz…"

Wonka stepped over to Bryant, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now, now, Mr. Bryant… it wasn't your fault he fell in. He should have known better than to lean over like that, especially after seeing there are no guard rails up yet."

Bryant's eyes narrowed and he shoved Wonka's hand away, his anxiety and sadness quickly transforming into rage. "Don't touch me!" He backed away from the candymaker, his eyes flaming with anger. "What kind of business do you think you're running here, anyway? What are you, some kind of murderer?"

"Mr. Bryant…"

"No!" the other shook his head heatedly, his voice a hiss of resentment. "You didn't save Officer Beck, you didn't even move to help him, or even try; and you didn't lift a finger to assist Inspector Fitz… so why should I trust you? They might yet be alive and will come out in the wash, or their ends may have been real but accidental; but I don't think I can believe you, not after watching you see them get taken away with such calmness, and your workers singing about their departures with such glee. If I didn't know any better, I might say you were trying to get rid of us!"

Willy's eyes darkened. "It is curious that you should say that, Mr. Bryant, because in truth, I really do want to get rid of you. The tour was an excuse, really, to distract you and eliminate you without a struggle." He chuckled. "And it was most enjoyable to see you trying to figure out what was going on, fighting your instincts as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Of course, since there were only three of you, the realization came a lot sooner… and it turns out your instincts were right. Both I and my workers enjoyed seeing your friends off, and in reality, we _did_ stage the events that took them away, although we weren't sure which of them was to be taken first. And yes, their ends are permanent; you, nor anyone else, will ever see them again."

Bryant's face reddened with fury. "But you said Beck would be fine, after he had been sucked up…"

"I lied," Wonka said plainly, shrugging. "However, I can promise you, fine John Bryant, that you will be able to leave my factory and return to your occupation of choice. You alone will be able to return to the ordinary world, with its taxes and depravity and political issues, normalcy in its finest."

"What's the catch?" Bryant inquired, his voice a reluctant growl.

"Oh, you'll see." Wonka replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He clicked his fingers, and four Oompa-loompas, short and sturdy, appeared from behind, coming to stand before their leader. Willy looked down to them, flashing them a deliberate smile. "Take Mr. Bryant, have him strapped down and ready for me. I would like to fetch something from the lab that I've been meaning to test."

The Loompas nodded, matching his brilliant smile with their own. They seized the mortified Bryant by the pant legs and pulled him along, while Wonka walked in the opposite direction, the Oompa-loompas left in the chamber pausing to look up in curiosity before breaking out in another song.

_Mr. Bryant can finally see_

_The reason for our songs and glee_

_That we oft dance and celebrate_

_To see the ugly hand of Fate_

_Borne down upon those who tread_

_Within this place and end up dead_

_Because they crossed our master's will_

_By conning him, or sent a bill_

_Many times it seems that man_

_Tries to do all that he can_

_To cause pain for the other guy_

_And make him pay (don't ask us why)_

_But in the end their loss is sealed_

_The master's genius revealed_

_Plots too complex to understand_

_Elimination schemed and planned_

_To rid us of a mean disturbance_

_To provide us with deliverance_

_From breaches in security_

_When guys come in and want to see_

_The secrets of our beloved employer_

_And sue him, though he has no lawyer_

_So this is our only defense_

_Against those who mean us offense_

_And now you finally know why_

_The unwitting intruder must die_

_To preserve our peace and harmony_

_And prevent us any felony_

_But we can promise our new friend John _

_That he alone may carry on_

_But an experiment he first must be_

_The tester for a new candy…_

They had strapped him down to a chair, his arms and legs fastened to the heavy seat by metal bands, the curved steel cold against his body. He glared at the four who had brought him; short, little men wearing the same black uniforms, marked with a pair of crossing Ws, and the same dark grins. He wanted to ask why he was here and what was going to happen to him, where Wonka had gone and why he had decided not to kill him immediately. He had caught a bit of the Oompa-loompas' last song as he was being roughly escorted out of the chamber, and understood: something bad was going to be done to him.

The moments passed slowly, and Bryant found himself thinking about the oddest things. _Are my socks clean?_ The thought made him struggle to look over his knees to try to see his feet, the movement making the guards run over to him. He froze when he noticed their approach, but they all looked to the door as it opened, permitting entrance for the grinning form of Wonka. He stepped over to the captive, eyes glowing with anticipation and spite. "Comfy, Mr. Bryant? I should hope so; I like for my employees to be comfortable."

"I'm not your employee," Bryant spat, his eyes defiant. "I would never work for a madman like you."

Wonka's grin straightened. "Well, unfortunately, Mr. Bryant, you have no choice. At least, I don't think you do, or you won't… it all depends if I got the recipe right. I do hope it works this time; it was too much for the last tester I used it on." He brought a syringe into view, the clear cylindrical portion filled with a pinkish, lucent fluid. "This is an experimental serum I've been making, a sugar-based chemical that goes straight to the brain and stays there, affecting the recipient permanently. It is supposedly a mind-altering drug, one that improves submission of a person. In other words, it is a whole mind reprogramming session wrapped into a few cubic centimeters of liquid. Isn't that neat?"

Bryant said nothing, but his eyes held a flicker of fear.

"Now, this will only hurt a little," Wonka said, his tone not unlike the soothing voice of a doctor. But Bryant knew otherwise, and he began to struggle against his bindings as Wonka drew close to him. He was unable to free himself, though, and so was helpless to stop the candymaker as he thrust the needle into Bryant's arm, injecting the full amount of the serum into his bloodstream before retracting the device. Willy stepped back, surveying his work with curiosity. For a moment, Bryant slumped, defeated and exhausted from attempting to fight against his restraints. After a few seconds, he lifted his head, the hatred in his eyes gone. "Mr. Wonka?"

"Yes?"

"What would you like me to do now?"

"Just sit there for a moment while I check something." Willy replied with a pleased smile. He glanced down to the piece of paper in his hand, a printout of the formula he had developed a little while ago. He had called it Subservience Serum, and was designed to create the feeling of trust and wellbeing in the recipient, erasing their minds of doubt or anger toward the creator of the drug. Theoretically, it would make the perfect servant, submissive and obedient, just what Wonka needed. And to find that it actually worked in John Bryant, well… He turned to the guards before him. "Release him from his restraints. Let him have the payment and let him go."

"But sir," one protested, "What about your resolve to not pay it?"

"I made a contract, a deal," Willy replied with a sigh. "I would like, at least on the outside, to be a man of my word."

"But sir…"

Wonka raised a hand. "Enough. Get that man sent out immediately. He works for us now."

"Yes, sir."

Willy watched as the Oompa-loompas left, herding the changed John Bryant out of the chamber, his lean form towering over the little men. He was proud of his workers, but he didn't like having his intellect questioned, especially by his employees. He made a mental note. "The Subservience Serum must be instilled in all of the employees, as soon as possible."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: _(do I really have to put this on every chapter?)  
_Name of Wonka, Oompa-loompas, etc. belong to whatever firm owns the rights to the works of Roald Dahl (at least until the year of 2035).

Record 5687, Wonka Archive

_London, England_

Willy Wonka sat at the head of the conference table, his eyes bright with anticipation. He looked around the table, glancing at each Oompa-loompa, the Heads of different departments, before opening the conference. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I assume everything is well? Your food supplies are stable? Wives and children happy?"

Everyone nodded, and Wonka smiled. "Good, good. I'm glad that all is well. But now that the formalities are over with, let's get to business. Manufacturing, report."

An Oompa-loompa stood, dressed in miniature overalls. "All machines are running on full, sir, and are producing at maximum capacity. We were having trouble in the Jellybean Room for a while, but the problem is fixed, and everything's good now."

Wonka dipped his head, and the Loompa sat. "Thank you. Engineering?"

"It's the same here, sir," another said, his grease-stained face smiling. "Everything is in top shape, and all the boys are functioning at their best."

"Good, good. Research?"

A white coated Loompa stood, speaking with hesitancy. "The, uh, candy research is going well… sir, but…"

Wonka raised a brow. "But?"

"My colleagues are beginning to question your intent, sir. I mean, you asked us to research the effects of addictive medicines on children, and how to integrate the drugs into candy without affecting the taste. What exactly are your intentions, sir?"

Willy smiled, but the cheer was forced, plastic."I was only curious about the matter… I wasn't going to act upon it. Goodness, can't someone be curious without arousing any undue suspicion anymore?" he slapped a hand on the tabletop in mock exasperation. The questioning looks of the board disappeared, but it was clear that not all were convinced by Wonka's display. Willy cleared his throat. "Now, back to reports. Business?"

"Profits are ever increasing, sir," an Oompa-loompa replied, straightening his miniature tie with one hand as he spoke. "Demand is up, supplies and resources are plentiful. Business for the most part is excellent."

"Thank you. Administration?" Wonka's eyes were expectant as he watched the next Loompa stand, his posture cool and dignified. "Sir, I'm sure you have been anxious to hear the results of our most recent negotiations, and I am happy to say they were very successful. The WTO has accepted our application, and the Beijing city council has agreed to give us an allotment of land outside their suburbs for a paltry sum…"

"How much?"

"Five million."

Wonka sniffed in amusement. "Paltry indeed! A tiny amount compared to what the landowners wanted in Costa Maya… Did you take it?"

"Yes, sir; the land has been fenced off, and construction crews hired for development of the topside structures. If their estimations are correct, they should be able to complete the administrative facilities within five months."

Willy's smile faded. "Five months?"

"Yes, sir; the size of the aboveground facility is enormous, not to mention the basements the crews have been asked to dig."

Willy sighed. "Then five months it is… which is fine, I suppose. I'll just have to occupy myself until then."

He paused, then added as if in afterthought. "Oh, make sure you and everyone in your departments receive the new vaccination… can't have you getting sick now, can we?"

The Loompas nodded, oblivious to the dark thoughts running through their employer's mind. _Very soon, we shall see the result…_

_Infirmary_

Masses of Oompa-loompas waited in line; they were obeying the will of their leader, that they should receive shots for their own benefit. It wasn't like they had any need to argue anyway; they certainly didn't want to get ill on the job, and none of them could refuse free medical. But as each Oompa-loompa was given the injection, it became clear… these weren't ordinary vaccinations… something was terribly wrong.

_Wonka's Office_

Willy sat at his desk, filling out a form addressed to the trucking companies that sold him his delivery vehicles. Normally, Administration would handle paperwork like this, but right now Willy needed something to do, something to occupy his time and mind as he endured the maddening process of waiting. It wasn't that he was impatient- he was a very easygoing man, longsuffering and unwearied. No, he was not impatient; rather, he was worried, and waiting only made the anxiety worse. He was worried that the factory in China would not be completed without attracting the suspicion of competitors, especially one in particular who had the power to threaten Wonka physically and financially. He was worried that he might have to face dangers and discouraging situations. He was worried that his formula wouldn't work…

The buzz of the intercom jerked him from his worried thinking, and he pressed the button with a hesitant hand. "Yes?"

And Oompa-loompa replied, his voice holding a tinge of fear. "Mr. Wonka, there are workers missing in every department. They're just gone!"

Wonka's face paled. "Have you checked everywhere?"

"Yes, sir; the village, the rooms, the storehouses… they're nowhere to be found!"

"Where could they have gone?"

"I don't know, sir… they don't seem to be anywhere."

Wonka cursed under his breath as a dreadful thought crossed his mind. _There's only one other place they could be…_ "Check the surveillance feed. Ring me if you find anything."

"Yes, sir."

He only had to twit a few minutes before the intercom buzzed again. "Mr. Wonka…"

"You have them?"

"Yes, sir. They went outside."

Wonka let his hands fall to his sides, sighing in resignation. "There is nothing we can do, then."

_London_

It had been an ordinary morning, an average day. Paperboys yelling in the streets, advertising the most recent news. Taxi drivers steering their cabs up and down the confusing jumble of streets and roads, crowds of people bustling along the well traveled sidewalks. Then they had come. A swarm of tiny figures, none of them taller than three feet, mistaken by some for children, stampeding down the street in pursuit of some newfangled activity. They were wrong, of course, for these were no children, but fully grown Oompa-loompas, whose minds had been altered as part of an experiment, one that was now going terribly wrong. None were prepared for the swarm's change in direction; instead of continuing down the street, they turned sharply and ran into the nearest shop, and the destruction began. They seized everything and anything, books magazines, candy, newspapers, cigars, TV's, telephones, and even the customers, and threw them down, smashing, crushing, obliterating all that they could. There was no reason to their actions, no intent… they couldn't have any anymore, because their minds were gone completely. People yelled and screamed, police came and tried to stop the seemingly possessed children, or dwarves, or midgets, or whatever they were, and it was only after everything was in shambles that the little men fled the scene, running back the way they had come, disappearing through the gaps in the gate of Wonka's factory.

The Oompa-loompas who returned, however, were not received kindly; Wonka had them taken and put into a holding cell until they could be properly interrogated and examined. Meanwhile, a crowd of angry shopkeepers and policemen and passerby had accumulated before Wonka's factory, and looked ready to storm the gates. Willy saw this with grim understanding, watching through the lens of a security camera. The two Oompa-loompas who were in the security room looked up to their leader, question in their eyes. "What are you going to do now, Mr. Wonka?"

Willy shrugged. "I don't' know. Go out and try to appease them, I suppose." He threw them a glance. "Hey, you haven't taken the immunization yet, have you?"

The two looked quite embarrassed. "No, sir. We were going to get it today, after our shift. But…"

Willy cut him off. "You haven't gotten it then. Good. Do yourself a favor and don't get it."

The guards exchanged a perplexed glance. "But you said…"

"And this is what I'm saying now," Wonka snapped sternly as he rose from his place. "Don't get it. I think there's a flaw somewhere in the formula I developed… at least I hope there is." With this said, he left the room, heading for the front doors.

_Holding Cells_

There was no one to guard them, not anymore. The mindless Loompas watched absently as their captors fell to the influence of the mind altering drug that had been discreetly mixed into the vaccinations. And now, the senseless guards released their prisoners, all of them leaving the chamber, a mindless mob whose intention was to wreak havoc on the facility.

_Front Gates_

The members of the crowd shouted angrily as Wonka approached the entrance, the individual voices lost in a collective uproar. Wonka gazed at the disgruntled faces with all the calmness he could muster, the raised a hand for silence. The shouts of anger died down, except for the yell of one man, who called Wonka something unprintable before being hushed by those around him. Wonka proceeded to address the crowd, removing his top hat before speaking. "Friends, I can see that something has caused you a great deal of frustration and injury today, that you are all hurt in some way. But I don't know why you have come in an uproarious fashion before _my_ gates. What wrong have I done you?"

The shouts began anew, some voices, fueled by anger, were louder than others. "Those midgets are in there!"

"They destroyed my shop!"

"Mine, too!"

"They pushed me over and stole my purse!"

The accusations kept mounting, and Wonka finally rose his hand again, the crowd quieting almost instantly this time.

_Factory Corridor_

The herd of Oompa-loompas, hundreds of them now, moved like a flood through the factory, destroying things as they had in the city, fueled by the carnal desire for destruction, mindless anger. No one stood in their way, no one could. They were everyone, all the workers of the factory, save for the two in the Security Room, who were watching in horror as the disaster unfolded around them. "What do you think we should do?" one asked, panic in his eyes. The other shook his head, frantic as well. "I don't know! What can we do? The intercom is down, there's no one to contact. It's us against everyone!"

"We should tell Mr. Wonka!"

"Right, right." The Loompa made a grab for the radio, swearing when he dropped it onto the ground. He snatched it up again as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Mr. Wonka!" He cried, mashing the key, "We've got a problem! Everyone's gone berserk, and…"

He felt a hand grab him from behind, and heard his companion shout in alarm. "They're here! They…"

It was the last thing he heard before his senses failed, and he knew no more.

_Front Gate_

Wonka was still speaking to the people when he heard the radio in his pocket come to life, and heard the panicked shouting of the guards. Then there was silence. His face paled, and he lifted his eyes to the crowd, his voice quavering. "They're in my factory… they're destroying everything…"

This roused more shouting from the people. "He's faking it!"

"It's just a trick!"

"We should search him!"

Wonka listened to the cacophony, head bowed in defeat. There was nothing he could do now.

The people's shouts were cut off as a loud rumbling reached their ears, and a sort of trembling pulsed thought the ground. Someone screamed. "Earthquake!" sending the crowd scattering for cover. But they stopped when they heard a massive crumbling, the noise of countless bricks coming loose from mortar, tumbling to the ground in a deadly torrent. The onlookers watched as the Wonka facility collapsed in on itself. Wonka, head still bowed, recognized the sound and didn't bother to look up. It wouldn't matter if he did or not; all his creations were gone, all his workers dead and buried. Whatever had happened, the top levels were destroyed, and doubtlessly the lower levels were destroyed, too; crushed by the weight of the topside rubble. All the Oompa-loompas, their women and children and men, were gone. Everything he had lived and worked for, gone. He finally looked up, the sight of the falling debris and brick dust brining a lump to his throat. With sad eyes, he met the gazes of those in the crowd. The people's anger evaporated, replaced with shock, pity, and shame, feeling sorry for the man who had lost everything in the space of a few moments. It looked like he had nothing. But they didn't know… Wonka _did_ have something. A whole factory in the works. It was not yet complete, and wouldn't be for a few months, but he could go there immediately and oversee the construction himself, and begin work on the subterranean network that would provide him with infinite workspace. He paused, suddenly realizing… he had no workers, not anymore. He didn't have any scrap of them to use in his newly developed cloning machine, either; not so much as a… he noticed something floating in the air, carried along with the dust and falling debris. He caught it with a gloved hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect it. _A hair_. He grinned, the future suddenly seeming much brighter. A person in the crowd of onlookers called out to Wonka, mystified. "Mr. Wonka, what will you do now? You've lost everything!"

Willy's hand closed around the hair as he answered with a brilliant smile. "Begin anew, I suppose. It's all I can do. I'll rewrite my formulas, make new creations, open up a new factory, bigger and better than before!"

"Where?"

Wonka grinned. "I hear the Orient is a great place to settle…"


End file.
